


half agony, half hope

by kingsnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Jon builds Sansa a tower hoping she'll come visit him, lonely people finding happiness, surely you must know it was all for you!!!, that is indeed the plot of this fic, yes - they will bang in this tower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsnow/pseuds/kingsnow
Summary: Once, she had wished that she could be like a lady in a song. When she was a girl, the tales of Jenny of Oldstones and Queen Naerys had seemed impossibly romantic. Melancholy had always seemed so beautiful. Now that she’d lived a tragic life, she was tired of sorrow. Just to see his face again would be enough, she told herself. But beneath that, hope was building up again. Maybe there would be something more than regrets waiting for her at Castle Black.(At Castle Black, Jon restores the King's Tower and renames it the Queen's Tower. It's only proper that the Queen in the North have somewhere proper to stay, if she were ever to come visit him.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jade_Masquerade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Masquerade/gifts).



Unlike Southron rulers, Sansa did not keep a large council. She had her steward, who balanced her books, and of course Maester Wolkan. She invited the lords and ladies visiting her court to advise her, but mostly they were kept busy rebuilding the North. It was easier to keep them at bay. When Lords did come to court, they often only wanted to advise Sansa that it was time for her to take a husband. That morning’s business had been of that nature. 

 

“I shall stop you there, Lord Cerwyn. The crown appreciates your loyal service, but you should know that I will never marry.”

 

“Never?” Lord Cerwyn asked, his face torn between hope and dissapointment.

 

“Never,” Sansa repeated. 

 

“And… how do you plan on having heirs?”

 

Sansa paused, sucking in a breath of air. “As you know, my sister, Princess Arya, has returned from the west married to her captain. In due time, I will take her eldest child as a ward, and he or she will rule after me.”

 

“But surely as queen, it is your duty —”

 

“I have no interest in matrimony, Lord Cerwyn. And as you bannerman it is your job to serve me, not the other way around. I suggest that if you are looking for a wife, you call on Torrhen’s Square. Lady Eddara Tallheart is of a age, and a lovely young woman perfectly fit to bear your sons.”

 

Slowly, Lord Cerwyn nodded. 

 

“Thank you for your council, you are all dismissed,” Sansa said.

 

After the other two men had left, Maester Wolkan lingered behind. This was not out of the ordinary, of all her servants, Maester Wolkan was the one that Sansa entrusted with the most.

 

“Is there something else, Maester Wolkan?”

 

“There’s been a raven for you, your grace,” he said. “From your brother.”

 

There was something strange about the way he said it that caused Sansa to stop. “And what does Bran want?”

 

“Not the king,” Maester Wolkan said, clearing his throat. “Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa said. That was not a name Sansa often heard, and though it had been years since she’d seen him, her heart still ached. She swallowed, then forced a smile. “Shall I see it, then?”

 

Maester Wolkan nodded gently, and pressed the paper into Sansa’s hand. “Does your grace wish to be alone?” 

 

Sansa nodded, and waited for her loyal servant to leave before uncurling the scroll.

 

The maester’s kindness was appreciated, though it was unlikely old Maester Wolkan understood the reason for Sansa’s abrupt reaction. Sansa had been a fierce protector of Jon in the last days, calling her banners and marching south to demand him back. He had been her king, and she had fought for him until the end. All the North mourned for their loss, though those in the southron kingdoms called him queenslayer more often than naught. Maester Wolkan couldn’t possibly know that Sansa had loved Jon once, and that part of her had held out hope that he could love her too. Nobody knew that, not even Jon.

 

_ The Night’s Watch has restored the King’s tower, and renamed it the Queen’s tower in honour of our queen, Sansa of House Stark. It is fit for her to take up residence if she ever wishes to visit Castle Black.  _

_ Lord Commander Snow _

 

This was the first Sansa had heard from Jon since he’d been forced to leave her. In the years that followed, Sansa had often thought of writing Jon. He was tantalizingly close, but she knew that if she saw him, she would not be able to watch him walk away again. So she got on with the business of being queen. She was not short of things to do, for winter and war had ravaged her new kingdom. Years ago, twenty thousand Northmen had marched south with Robb, and only a handful returned. Thousands more died retaking Winterfell from the Boltons and Greyjoys, and defending it from the white walkers.

 

When she was finished reading the scroll, Sansa pressed it into her corset, and held it close to her heart. She blinked back tears, and stood up as duty demanded she did. A queen could not afford to be broken hearted. Still, later that night, Sansa took the scroll out. By candlelight, she read it over and over again, until she memorized each word. 

 

That night, Sansa saw him in her dreams. He looked as he had the day she’d watched him leave, the years at the wall had not aged him. In his arms had been a baby who looked like him but had her blue eyes.  _ Their son. _ Jon had run his hands through her hair and kissed her, and it had been so real that her toes curled when she remembered it the next morningi. It had been a long time since she’d had such a sweet slumber, and she lay in bed it’s her eyes closed until well past daybreak, imagining what could have been. 

 

Her handmaiden pulled her from her fantasies, with a light knock on her door. “Your grace, I’ve drawn your bath,” Willa said. 

 

“Thank you,” Sansa said, forcing herself awake. 

 

She stretched, then pulled a cloak around herself to keep warm as she walked to the adjoining room. One of her servants had lit a fire, and the room was pleasantly warm. She undressed, and stepped into the hot water of the tub. After Willa helped her wash her hair, Sansa dismissed her. She sat there until the water had lost its warmth. Soft memories that had been too painful to hold when he’d left came back to her now and filled her with longing. 

 

If Sansa was being honest, her aversion was not to marriage, but to marrying anybody but Jon. After she had loved, how could she accept anything less? She had come to Jon broken, expecting so little in the world. She couldn’t trust anyone, least of all a man. She had gotten used to disappointments… but Jon had gotten to her… she hadn’t expected him to leave her. It had been easier to simply deny her interest in anything matrimonial than to look the truth in the face -- that for a brief moment, with him, she had thought that maybe, just maybe she could be happy.

 

At that day’s council meeting, Sansa could barely pay attention. Despite her curt rejection, Lord Cerwyn remained. He seemed to enjoy giving her counsel, so it was easy enough to nod along. When she dismissed everyone, she told Maester Wolkan to remain.

 

“Your grace… is this about the letter?” Maester Wolkan said, eyeing her carefully. “I questioned whether I should bring it to you…”

 

“Why?” Sansa asked, furrowing her brow in surprise. 

 

“Lord Snow betrayed you in the past, and I know thinking of him brings you great sorrow.”

 

“I don’t…  _ no _ … Jon never betrayed me,” Sansa said, straightening her back. She had never lost faith in her brother, despite anything he had done. “He was only doing what he thought best, I assure you. He saved us all.”

 

Maester Wolkan looked skeptical, but nodded. “I knew it would be best to trust your judgement, but I just worry about you. You’ve been through a lot.”

 

She had, and Maester Wolkan had seen it all. She could not blame the man for being defensive of her. “Jon shouldn’t be up there all alone. He shouldn’t be punished for doing the right thing. I… I’ve let him down, Maester, not the other way around. He was our king.”

 

“You did your best to help him. You went to bring him back,” the maester said, very softly.

 

“He shouldn’t be up there… doing nothing of any significance… all on his own,” Sansa sighed. That had been another reason it hurt to think of him. “What does the Night’s Watch even do?”

 

“According to the letter, he’s spent the past few years restoring a tower.”

 

“I… Maester Wolkan, I plan on giving the Night’s Watch a purpose. It is my duty as Queen in the North, and as Jon’s sister. They ought to do something of value. I’ve neglected Jon long enough. I need to see him.”

 

Maester Wolkan let out a long breath. “I will write a raven inviting him to return to Winterfell, then.”

 

“No. I will go see him. You read his letter. He restored a tower for me, hoping I would visit,” Sansa smiled, despite herself. “Me and Ser Andar will ride out at once. We could be there in a few days.” 

 

“Your grace… the kingsroad isn’t safe to travel all alone. Ser Andar is a fine knight, but you must bring a full armed guard.”

 

“You forget that I’ve run to the wall before, in much more dangerous times. I don’t want to wait, and there’s work to be done here. You can carry on without me, can’t you?” Sansa asked, though she was not really giving him any choice. He nodded, accepting his queen's decision, and the matter was settled. 

 

Once, she had wished that she could be like a lady in a song. When she was a girl, the tales of Jenny of Oldstones and Queen Naerys had seemed impossibly romantic. Melancholy had always seemed so beautiful. Now that she’d lived a tragic life, she was tired of sorrow. Just to see his face again would be enough, she told herself. But beneath that, hope was building up again. Maybe there would be something more than regrets waiting for her at Castle Black.


	2. Jon

It was only midday, but there was nothing left for Jon Snow to do. Lord Commander was an easy job when he had only a handful of men, and no purpose to his days. He had taken a pitcher of ale up the winch and sat now atop the wall, looking towards the south. It had been a long summer at Castle Black, but the leaves were finally starting to turn red and yellow. Soon, winter would come, and he wouldn’t have any time in the sun. It was often said that atop the wall you could see to Winterfell, and though Jon wished such a feat was possible, he hadn’t seen Winterfell since he’d marched to King’s Landing. 

 

He had nearly finished his pitcher by the time he saw riders approaching in the distance. He was inebriated enough that he could have imagined the red hair blowing in the wind, but he stood up all the same, dropping his cup of ale in the process. 

 

The wall rarely received visitors. Occasionally, some prisoners would be sent from some lord hoping to get rid of troublemakers. Most of them, of course, were Targaryen loyalists, who called Jon The Queenslayer, and inevitably had to be sent to the Shadow Tower or Eastwatch by the Sea. Alys Karstark had come calling a year ago, hoping to trade with the wildlings. She looked so similar to Sansa, that for a brief moment, Jon had thought his sister had finally come to visit him. In the dark halls of Castle Black, and after drinking a sufficient amount of ale, Alys had somehow become Sansa in his mind’s eye. In front of the fire, he’d pressed his lips to hers and pulled her into his lap. Alys had been eager, running her hands through his hair and sighing against his mouth. A few minutes passed before he’d caught himself and made his excuses. 

 

On the day she’d left, she’d confessed the true intentions of her trip to the wall. It was tempting to fall into a love affair with Lady Karstark… it had been nice to be wanted, to have been remembered at all. But in the end, he’d kissed her on the cheek, and told her he was a man of the night’s watch. He would take no wife, and father no children.

 

As the rider came closer, Jon knew he hadn’t imagined the long red hair. It was surely Alys who had made the trek back up North. After so many years had passed, he knew that it could not be Sansa. She had never come, no matter how many scrolls he’d sent south. He had never even had a reply. This latest letter wouldn’t be any different. And if the Queen in the North had come to call at last, she would be attended by half a hundred men. He would have received word she was coming, at the very least. He would have shaved his beard and taken a bath to prepare for her arrival. He certainly wouldn’t be drunk at midday. 

 

And yet, despite knowing all of this, the same foolish part of his heart that had led him to rebuild the Queen’s Tower held out hope. He held his breath as the winch descended the wall, and he walked across the courtyard. 

 

“Open the gate!” Jon called, his words slurring only sightly. 

 

Alys wouldn’t have minded if Jon was drunk. In her few days at the wall, she’d come to expect nothing less. But the woman approaching on horseback wore a crown atop her loose red hair. Jon’s jaw slackened, and he stared wide eyed as Sansa drew nearer. His chest tightened as she dismounted her horse, and sunk to his knee. She was his queen, after all. 

 

“Your Grace,” Jon said.

 

“Oh Jon,” Sansa said, laughing almost nervously. “Stand. I never bent the knee for you, did I?”

 

In truth, his kneeling had more to do with not knowing what to say in this situation. He wanted to embrace her, but he didn’t want her to smell the alcohol on his breath, or look upon his untamed beard. But he did as she commanded, and stood before her. She looked the same as she had on the docks in King’s Landing. No, that was not true. She looked more beautiful than she ever had. Her hair was loose and windblown, and there was a wide smile on her face. She was wearing colour again, a purple silk dress and a grey wool cape. 

 

Before Jon could manage any words, Sansa threw her arms around him. He pulled her closer, closing his eyes and breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. 

 

“I got your letter,” Sansa whispered into his ear, “I wanted to see it.”

 

“Really?” Jon asked.

 

Sansa loosened her grip on him, and looked him in the face. “Of course! You built me a tower. How could I not come see it?”

 

Jon smiled, still a little dumbstruck by the sight of her. Sansa had not responded to any of his scrolls before, but he didn’t mention that. She must have had her reasons, and he was so happy to see her that he didn’t want to start a row. “I… didn’t receive a raven… I would have had food prepared for you, if I’d known… and I would have shaved…” Jon’s hand flew up to his face. “None of us knew to expect a queen.”

 

“I didn’t send a raven. I assumed Maester Wolkan would… but I didn’t tell him to, so it’s really my fault. But you really shouldn’t worry, Jon. It’s only me. You look fine!”

 

Jon knew he did not look fine. He looked like a mountain clansman who hadn’t taken a bath in a year. Even worse, Sansa looked as beautiful as ever. If his men, who gathered around them now, had any inkling that their Lord Commander dreamt of bedding this beautiful creature, they would throw their heads back and laugh. “Satin will show you your chambers, Your Grace,” Jon said at last, “and then bring you to the hall.”

 

“I’ve been here before, you know. I don’t need to be shown to the hall.”

 

“How could I forget?”

 

Jon’s steward led Sansa away. He stood there, watching her go. She looked back at him only once, but her sweet smile made his heart feel like it was going to leap out of his chest. 

 

He knew he only had a few minutes, so he didn’t waste any time on taming his beard or hair. Instead he got a basin of cold water and a bar of soap and washed himself as quickly as he could. He put on fresh breeches and a the only clean shirt he had -- a billowy, black linen shirt. He would instruct Satin to wash the rest of it, but for now he descended his tower to the hall. 

 

Sansa was already waiting for him, surrounded by his men. Her own man was standing by the fire, warming his hands. It was only now that Jon got a good look at him. He was tall -- too tall, some might say, and certainly a lot taller than Jon was. He was clean shaven and blonde, handsome with sharp cheekbones and strapping shoulders. Who was this man to her? For a moment, Jon could not help but wonder, and as he did, jealousy bubbled inside of him.

 

He knew it was silly for him to be jealous because Jon knew nothing was to come of his lust for his sister. It wasn’t just that she did not feel the same way, because even if she did, the whole thing was still hopeless. He was a man of the night’s watch, he was The Queenslayer, a man whispered about and who nobody respected. Oathbreaker, kinslayer. He had lost the North to the dragon queen, he had bedded her and betrayed her. Sansa deserved better than that. She deserved a whole life, a beautiful one, and that was something he could never give her. He had rebuilt the tower not to win her heart or her hand, but merely in the hopes to see her again. 

 

The man standing at the fire was everything Jon no longer was, and never could be. He should be happy for her, if she had found somebody to love.

 

When Sansa saw him, she turned to his men. “It was so nice to meet you all, but if I could be alone with my brother…”

 

His men obeyed Sansa better than they had ever obeyed him, but that wasn’t surprising. She was a pretty girl, and they hadn’t seen a woman since they’d been sent to the wall. The whores of Moletown had abandoned the North when the White Walkers moved south, and the wildling women had gone North when the snows cleared.

 

Sansa’s man didn’t leave her side until Sansa said to him gently, “you too, Ser Andar. I am safe with Jon, I promise you.”

 

He nodded dutifully and left them. And just like that, Jon was alone with her. 

 


End file.
